I occasionally experience a sense of weight in my chest throughout the day. It follows me around, like a shadow; and, I find myself asking, why? Why is everything so tight? So thin? So draining of emotions? I’ve spent a considerable amount of time attempting to articulate these feelings, and, hopefully, this article is an example of my attempts to identify this reality we’re living in, and possibly help others who may be feeling isolated in this same space.
At times, I look around and I am unsure of what happened to the world I believed in growing up. I’m not saying that it was without its problems, but it certainly did not seem to be as constant of a flow of sorrow and disruption. My days seemed softer, mornings were lighter, the air seemed cleaner, news was not a battle to fight emotionally each day, and I did not have to wake up to tragedy upon tragedy, unfolding in real-time on my phone.
Nowadays, the world feels like it is carrying a significant wound that never seems to heal. And I feel it too. I feel it when I open the news. I feel it when I scroll social media. I feel it when I attempt to rationalize why everything seems to weigh down on me more heavily than ever before. At times, it feels like we are all trying to breathe underwater.
Wherever I look, something is hurting. And I am not just looking at it. I am experiencing it.
When I see what’s happening in Gaza, I do not simply read the headlines. I visualize the parents putting their children to bed, not knowing whether the walls surrounding them will remain intact until the next morning. I visualize the kids who know the sounds of bombs exploding more clearly than the sounds of toys. That one image alone stays with me in a manner I cannot completely grasp.
Next, I see what’s happening in Ukraine. I see video footage of cities that once held everyday life, laughter, grocery stores, routines, etc., now reduced to nothing but rubble. I see young men who could be studying or developing their futures instead learning how to survive on the front lines. It appears surreal to me that a modern-day European nation is living within scenes taken directly from history books, but they are happening right now.
Of course, I am not just concerned about these two conflicts that break my heart. I see other nations, countries, which people rarely speak about anymore, despite the fact that the suffering of the people has not ceased. Sudan, Congo, Myanmar, Syria, Yemen. These are all countries filled with families attempting to live ordinary lives in unimaginable pain.
Occasionally I find myself asking, when did the world become so numb that a million people suffering barely affects? Then I realize that it is not numbness of the heart. It is mental fatigue. We witness such immense amounts of pain every day that we are exhausted in our minds and do not know where to place it all. Our hearts were not built to handle this. No generation in history has been required to carry the weight of global trauma, as we do today.
While wars destroy lives, another type of suffering develops in areas like India every year during the winters. When I view the air quality in Delhi, I am scared. The thought of watching the sky darken due to the air itself being poisonous is dystopian. Yet, people walk through it. Children breathe it. Families inhale it. I often think about this. How something as basic and pure as air is no longer a guarantee.
This makes me feel hopeless at times. Hopeless, and also guilty that I can breathe with ease while millions cannot.
It causes me to question how we, as humans, allowed normal life to become so restrictive.
The most confusing aspect is how quickly we adapt. Suffering becomes a norm. Tragedies are viewed as common-place events, solely because they occur so frequently. We are so saturated with information that even the unthinkable feels familiar now. And that frightens me the most. Not the wars, nor the pollution, nor the instability. But the acceptance. The quiet acceptance that this is “the way the world is now.”
Thank you for reading this far. Thank you, truly. I hope this piece helps you feel slightly less alone in the weight, and more aware of the humanity we must preserve at all costs.
Perhaps, in discussing the pain openly, we begin the journey towards a softer tomorrow.
I miss the old world. A more peaceful world. A safer world. Sometimes I feel ashamed of saying that because perhaps the world has always been broken and I simply did not see it. However, I do not think this is the case today. I am sure I am not the only person feeling the weight today. I see the same fatigue in other people’s eyes and demeanor as well. Everyone appears to be mentally exhausted and most of us do not even understand why.
However, I still feel a glimmer of hope within me. Even during the most difficult times I see examples of humanity that tell me the world is not lost. I see people who are complete strangers helping each other in war torn areas of the world. I see volunteers working tirelessly to clean polluted rivers. I see groups fighting for cleaner air, safer streets, and real leadership. I see every day people doing incredible things to help others and to make the world a better place because they still believe things can get better. That gives me something to hang onto.
These reminders of the goodness of humans remind me that while the world may appear damaged, the world is not giving up. Neither are the people of the world. Perhaps this is the greatest story of all. Not the struggles and suffering, but the survival and the compassion of the people that continues to grow stronger.
I do not have the answers to where this journey will lead. I do not know how we will ultimately progress through these times. Writing this has allowed me to breathe a bit easier. Writing this has allowed me to speak aloud what so many people silently feel. The world is suffering, and so are we. Acknowledging this is not being negative, it is being honest. It is the beginning to understanding how to continue moving forward.
